


Let me Leaven Your Life

by violetmessages



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetmessages/pseuds/violetmessages
Summary: In which Ianto's inability to bake sourdough bread leads him to a realization.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	Let me Leaven Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is either set in season two or an imaginary season three where nobody dies and CoE never happened (as I wrote it in my head).

When it really came down to it, Ianto decided that this was all Gwen’s fault. 

Or more precisely, the loaf of sourdough bread that she delivered to his door when his so-called “obsession” began.

* * *

“IANTO! Watch out!” came Owen’s voice, but it was already too late. The weevil took a swipe at his chest and pushed him onto the ground. Ianto tried to stop himself from falling but his attempt at balance failed and he fell onto the ground, leg bent horribly, and a shooting pain running up his ankle. The weevil attempted another swipe at him, but Owen misted weevil spray onto its face and it fell directly on top of Ianto. 

“Ugh!” he yelled out.

“Sorry mate” Owen replied, looking contrite. He pulled the weevil off Ianto’s chest. “Can you stand?”

Ianto pushed up on his elbows groaning. He clutched his chest as he tried to stand, and yelped out as he stood on his left leg. 

“Don’t stand up if it hurts you, idiot!” Owen chastised. “I’ll secure the weevil then come look at you ok. Just stay down.”

Ianto nodded and turned his head upwards to watch the sky. The sky was grey and the cold mist wisped over his face. _There goes another suit_ , he thought to himself. It was unfortunate how much of his salary went to dry cleaning. 

A dark shadow blocked out the little light that the rainy day afforded. The shadow got closer, and Ianto realized it was Owen, who knelt down by his outstretched feet.

“Ok teaboy, where does it hurt exactly?” asked Owen. 

“My ankle. And my chest.” 

Owen felt his ankle, then inspected the side of his chest.

“Your ankle is definitely sprained but we have to get back to the Hub to check on your chest.”

* * *

“So then Owen told me I had a sprained ankle and bruised ribs and Jack told me I was on sick leave for three weeks. Apparently walking around on a sprained ankle makes it worse, and he was concerned that I would fall if I used crutches around the Hub.” 

Gwen wrinkled her nose. 

“That sounds awful. But I agree with him, you should take the time to rest!” she said.

“What am I going to do, watch EastEnders until my eyes bleed?” he asked moodily. 

“No idea! But I come bearing gifts! Here’s some soup, and some lasagne, and some sourdough bread that _I made_!” Gwen said, handing Ianto the bag with a smile. He accepted the bag, but frowned. 

“Gwen, you know I think of you as a good friend, but-”

“Yes I know! I’m not the best at cooking, but I did a good job on the bread, I promise! Rhys and I ate the other loaf last night and he’s very particular about his food. He ate like half of it!”

“Ok, I-I guess I trust you?”

Gwen grinned widely and wrapped herself around him. She kissed his cheek and left with a promise to come if he needed anything. 

Now was as good a time as any to brave Gwen’s cooking. He assumed that Rhys made the soup, and he ladled himself up a bowl of it to reheat. Ianto took his bread knife, and cut the smallest possible piece of bread he could to taste. He put it into his mouth, and _moaned_. 

This was possibly the best bread he had ever eaten in his entire life. 

He was shocked. Gwen was the person who had once made him a simple sandwich that tasted like burnt rubber. But this bread tasted delicious. Ianto ate slice after slice until he realized that half the loaf was gone.

Pulling out his phone, he texted Gwen. 

[ _Am both shocked and amazed._ ]

[ _What did you put in the bread, cocaine??_ ]

[ _Why? Is it bad?_ ]

[ _No it was delicious._ ]

[ _I almost don’t believe it was you who made it_ ]

[ _OI!_ ]

[ _But thanks love_ ]

[ _Seriously what did you put in it?_ ]

[ _It’s just a simple sourdough_ ]

[ _I’ll bring you the recipe tomorrow_ ]

[ _You might as well try it since I’m sure you’re bored out of your mind._ ]

[ _Thanks Gwen._ ]

[ _;)_ ]

* * *

Gwen was right about Ianto being bored out of his mind. During the course of the day, he washed all of his dishes, even the ones that didn’t need to be washed. He did his laundry. Then he mopped the floor, which, due to his crutches, took him two hours. Finally, after dusting his entire house, he plopped down onto his sofa. 

It was only four. 

Grimacing, he pulled out an old book from the bookcase and began to read. Unfortunately he couldn’t focus. His mind kept wandering to the Hub, and the list of tasks he needed to do. After a while, he stopped pretending to read, and just pulled out a pad and started writing down the pending tasks. 

He felt almost guilty, as if he was at fault for not doing anything more productive. His chest tightened, but Ianto promptly dismissed it as pain from his bruised ribs. There was no need to dwell on it for longer.

* * *

“You know, that is about two steps more than needed” remarked Jack, looking at Ianto with raised eyebrows. 

Ianto didn’t bother looking at him. He spooned the flour into the cup, then used a knife to perfectly level off the flour.

“Why don’t you just use the cup to get the flour?”

“Because that’s wrong. You’re supposed to do it this way so you don’t pack the flour too heavily.”

Jack rolled his eyes, then grinned as he said, “I can think of something else that we can do now.”

“Wait until I’m done. I need to finish it now so that it can rise for the next twenty four hours.”

“They sell bread at the bakery Ianto. I can buy you some tomorrow.”

“If you’re so impatient to get your dick pulled then go do it yourself.”

Jack rolled his eyes again and wandered into the living room. He came back to Ianto’s kitchen, holding a pad of paper.

“What’s this?”

“A list of things that need to get done at the Hub. You know, since I was basically able to clean my floors today in crutches, I think I can come back to work by tomorrow.”

“Nice try. You were supposed to be resting! Owen says you need to be on sick leave, and I agree with him.”

“I’m bored out of my mind!”

“Just use this time to relax and catch up with the other things in your life. I gave you three weeks for a reason.”

The problem wasn’t just that he was bored with nothing to do. Ianto was bored and was deeply concerned about the pile up of tasks he had left at the Hub. The thought of lying around his house like an invalid was not helping his stress level.

Normally Ianto would be able to ignore his feelings by doing work. But now?

All he had was sourdough. 

* * *

“Ianto, how nice to hear that beautiful accent. What’s up?”

“I’m going insane. There is nothing for me to do!”

“Well I’m always up for a little phone sex-”

“-No!”

“Fine. Why don’t you work on your bread? You seemed pretty interested last night?”

“I did. But you have to feed the starter for seven days before you can make it. Please let me come back to work.”

“Nope! But you know, you can always feed _me_ something, if you know what I mean?”

“Bye Jack.”

* * *

Ianto looked at the bowl of water in dismay. There was his starter. Sinking to the bottom of the water.

“Does that mean you can make bread now?” Jack asked.

“-no”

“Oh?”

“The starter has to float to the top to make bread. I have to keep feeding it until it does. Then I can make the bread.”

“I’m sorry. But on the plus side, you have something to do next week.”

“I want to go back to work.”

“No. Make your bread.”

* * *

Ianto stared down at the flat cardboard-esque sourdough bread that had emerged from his oven. It looked like paper and tasted like vinegar. 

“I thought you said you were making bread?” Jack smirked.

“Shut up” He retorted. What an absolute waste. “I think my starter isn’t good.”

“I think you should add yeast.”

“Sourdough doesn’t need yeast Jack! How is it not working!”

Jack shrugged and tried to hide a smile. 

“Should I ask Gwen to come over and help?”

“No! Do _not_ tell Gwen a thing! How is it possible that the woman who managed to set her kitchen on fire making spaghetti can make the world’s best bread and I can’t even get it to rise!” 

Ianto grabbed the baking pan and slammed the bread into the open garbage can. He flung the pan on the stove and crossed his hands, looking up at the ceiling.

What was so wrong with him that he couldn’t even make something that Gwen had made perfectly.

Two hands encircled his chest and pulled him backwards. He leaned on Jack’s chest angrily, as Jack rubbed his chest and kissed the side of his neck. 

“It’s just bread Ianto” he whispered into his ear.

“It’s the principle of the thing!”

“You can try again tomorrow. Now I remember promising Janet that I was going to do something to you tonight.”

“And that is?”

“Why don’t you stop worrying about bread and come find out.”

* * *

By Ianto’s seventh loaf, he had stopped trying to taste the bread. When it came out, he took one look at the flat pancake and tossed it in the garbage. He had one and a half weeks left until he was allowed to come back to work, and he was determined to make Gwen at least half a loaf of sourdough. 

Jack specifically had gone from amused to wearing a slightly concerned expression every time he talked to him. It was probably because bread had dominated every conversation they had. 

Ianto would have let the bread go as a failed experiment, had he been able to go back to work. But every time he looked at his starter, which was often, his chest tightened the way it had every time he had looked at Lisa. And he couldn’t blame it on his bruised ribs. 

Making sourdough made the feeling go away, but his failed bread only made his anxiety worse. 

He knew more about lactobacilli than he previously cared to know. But nothing was making the feeling go away other than making sourdough. So after throwing away every failed loaf, he started on a new one. 

* * *

The sourdough chapter of Ianto’s life came to a close on the Saturday before he was scheduled to come back to work. 

Jack was extremely concerned about Ianto. In addition to only being able to drink his coffee once a day, they hadn’t had a conversation that didn’t include the words: sourdough, starter, bacteria, yeast, or fermentation. He worried that Ianto was taking his inability to make bread too personally. 

He wanted Ianto to cheer up, so he invited Owen, Tosh, Gwen, and Rhys over to Ianto’s flat tonight for a surprise “welcome back to work” dinner. 

They congregated at his door, food in hand. Jack pulled out his key and gestured for them to be silent. 

“He’ll know in a minute anyway” complained Owen. Gwen, hands full carrying two sourdough loaves, elbowed him and glared. 

“Shh!” whispered Jack, as he opened the door. However none of them were expecting what they saw inside his flat.

There stood Ianto, eyes burning in fury, smashing his dutch oven against the floor. He dropped his latest flat loaf onto the shards and lit a match. 

“Ianto!”

“What the fuck mate!”

“Are you doing alright?”

At the cacophony of voices, he finally looked up. Ianto’s face lit up a bright red, and he quickly blew out the match. 

“What-erm,” he cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise dinner for you?”

Ianto cleared his throat again.

“Oh. Um, I’ll just need a minute. Make- um- make yourselves at home.” he said and strode across the room and into another. Jack raised his eyebrows at the others, then followed Ianto to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. 

There, sat Ianto on the bed, looking at the wall, forehead creased in tension. 

“You wanna tell me what that little display out there was?” Jack asked, joining him on the bed.

Ianto cocked a brow. 

“Not particularly.” he responded. 

“Tough. What’s going on Ianto?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“I don’t think that it was because of the bread. What’s really been happening?”

Ianto sighed deeply. His forehead creased more, and Jack longed to smooth them out with his hand. But it was more important to understand what was going on. 

“When I was making the bread, I felt like I was doing something. Like I was useful. Like I mattered.” He sighed again and took a deep breath. “When it didn’t work-” he paused.

Jack pulled Ianto closer towards him. He rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. 

“When it didn’t work I-. I already wasn’t doing anything at the Hub. And I don’t know, I guess I felt guilty that I was just at home”

Jack frowned and said, “Ianto I gave you the sick leave to rest. You aren’t responsible for everything in the Hub, and you definitely aren’t when you are injured.”

“I know but I guess it feels like all of my time is borrowed time, and if I’m not doing something useful, I-I feel like I’m stealing time away from someone or something. Like I’m stealing away Torchwood’s time. I know that sounds crazy but-”

“Ianto, you’re a person. Your time is yours. It belongs to you. I know that everyone thinks that Torchwood is their life, but honestly, for you, or for anyone else on the team? If they felt like if Torchwood was too much for them, I would just let them leave. I wouldn’t retcon them.”

Ianto hitched a breath and Jack continued.

“I promise you that you do matter. You are worth something. You deserve rest. And we are going to keep talking about this tonight, but right now we have four very hungry people outside, who are ready to celebrate you and all you do for us. No one is doing well without you.” he paused for a second. “Besides, I think if we wait then Owen will eat everything and demand that you make him coffee.”

Ianto laughed softly and smiled at him. 

“Oh alright” he said. 

“There’s that beautiful smile! Now, let’s go eat. I think Gwen made sourdough!”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](https://violetmessages.tumblr.com/)


End file.
